


Second Time's a Charm

by orphan_account



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Edward's a dumbass, Humor, I hope?, M/M, and now I'm down in hell, anyway, basically they escape from Arkham together, fuck man I started writing this as a joke and then it like, its at least a little funny, lemme just keep going, listen, oh shit, oswald's a little shit, things happen, u know how it be, wasn't bad and I was like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 21:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13819998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Nygma scoffed, turning around to collapse onto the bench in the back of the cell, slumping against the wall behind him. Oswald eyed him warily. If there was a god, he was almost certainly watching from his cloud, sipping his ambrosia, laughing his fucking ass off at Oswald’s misfortune.





	Second Time's a Charm

**Author's Note:**

> im not entirely sure where I'm headed with this just bear with me

See, with the way things are in Gotham City, Oswald can hardly be blamed for his rather _unkosher_ actions, making it overall completely and utterly unfair that James Gordon, ever the knight in shining fucking armor, should have him face down against the hood of his car, his hands drawn behind him to be roughly forced into handcuffs.

Needless to say, this indecorus arrangement would certainly not last. Oswald was a man of action, _not_ a man of consequence. He made sure Gordon got an earful as he was unceremoniously shoved into the back of his car, face first, again, because Jim isn’t one for chivalry.

As the car sped off Oswald glared daggers into the back of Jim’s skull. He figured if he was to waste his energy on anything, glaring at Jim Gordon was definitely a good use of it. By the time they arrived at the GCPD Jim had two smoking holes in the back of his head and a less than gracious crime boss fuming in the backseat. He pulled Oswald out of the car, walking rapidly towards the building, giving no thought whatsoever to Oswald’s leg which was incidentally hurting like a bitch, likely not unrelated to Jim’s uncourteous manhandling.

“And I suppose I shouldn’t be asking for that favor you owe me about now,” Oswald muttered, glancing sideways at the detective, making sure Jim felt all the malice and resentment packed into his gaze.

“Shut up,” Jim grunted. Ah, brevity; how your gentle caress soothes the criminal soul.

Once inside Oswald had to pause, digging his heels into the ground the minute he saw the absolute _heathen_ that was sitting in the holding cell he was currently being dragged towards.

“Absolutely not,” he spat, twisting to get out of Jim’s iron grip on his arm to no avail.  
Jim, as per usual, was having none of it, and he quickly shoved Oswald into the cell and locked it, giving the criminal one last look that Oswald preferred to read as, ‘ _I feel bad for this, considering you’ve saved me on multiple occasions and gone out of your way to dutifully preform favors for me for an entire season of this godforsaken show_ ,’ when truthfully it was more along the lines of, ‘ _Rot in Arkham you overgrown seabird_ ’.

When Oswald turned around to accept his disagreeable fate he found himself face to face with the man of his once dreams turned nightmares, sometimes quite literally. Oswald made a startled noise and stumbled back against the bars behind him, their proximity equal levels harrowing and mildly beguiling, but Oswald didn’t dwell on the latter.

“Penguin,” Nygma greeted, none too congenially.

“Edward,” Oswald uttered distastefully, making a face as though he smelled something particularly odorous, perhaps a testament to Nygma’s unkempt state. Truly, Oswald had never seen his hair or clothes in more of a state of unruliness, if his daydreams were to be discounted.

“You’re looking… well,” Nygma offered, though his tone suggested otherwise.

“Can’t say the same goes for you,” Oswald sneered, pointedly glancing at the tie that was hanging loosely around the other man’s neck, caught suspended at an awkward angle that would be around eight if it were to be placed onto a clock.

Nygma scoffed, turning around to collapse onto the bench in the back of the cell, slumping against the wall behind him. Oswald eyed him warily. If there was a god, he was almost certainly watching from his cloud, sipping his ambrosia, laughing his fucking ass off at Oswald’s misfortune.

~ ; ~

So this is how it would be.

Edward narrowed his eyes as Oswald slammed his face against the wall and groaned again, loud enough undoubtedly to alert the other inmates to his shameless display of self-pity.

“Each time you do that you lose a significant amount of brain cells,” Edward commented. Oswald paused in his groans to stare at him for a moment before repeating the action, groaning even louder if it was possible.

“It worked last time,” Edward tried again, stepping so he was at least in Oswald’s peripheral, “Escaping from a place like this is barely a step up.”

Oswald turned to glare at him, “I don’t know if I can stomach working together again,” he said caustically.

“Fine then,” Edward pushed his glasses up and leaned back on the wall nonchalantly, “I’ll make my way out of here with or without your help, that cat girl showed me an escape.”

“I never said I won’t work with you,” Oswald said, suddenly miraculously interested, “I can handle a little bile.”

Edward gave him a smug look and the other man flipped him off.

 ~ ; ~

“Stop shoving,” Oswald growled, swatting Edward’s hand away as the taller man attempted to move him to give himself more space. Believe it or not, the vents happened to be rather claustrophobic, only worsened by having to fit two people rather than one.  
“Well I wouldn’t shove if you’d give me room to breathe,” Edward retorted.

Oswald huffed in annoyance and crawled forward faster so that he was in front of the other, unknowingly positioning himself so Edward’s view was almost entirely obstructed by the man’s rear. He couldn’t deny that the sight wasn’t welcome, but he’d sooner chop off a finger than let any part of Oswald get in his way, and that included his ass, untimely concupiscence be damned.

He grabbed the smaller man’s ankle and he stumbled, turning his head so fast to glare behind him that Edward got concerned for a moment he might have obtained whiplash.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re-” Oswald started before Edward abruptly pulled him back and moved so they were side by side again. The incredulous squawk from the other was well worth his troubles.

“I can’t see if I’m behind you,” Edward said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world which, truthfully, it was.

“We’re in a _vent_ , genius, you don’t need to see. You don’t suppose we’ll run into some voracious predator that you should’ve seen coming in here, do you?” Oswald hissed.

“Well then you should be perfectly satisfied with me in the lead then, seeing as you’re unconcerned,” Edward replied.

Oswald looked affronted.

“Not in a million years,” he snapped.

“Side by side it is, then,” Edward smirked. Oswald rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, just in case Edward had missed his animosity.

Their continued trek was subsequently quarrelless, presumably because Oswald was busy viciously committing homicide in his head, the act of which Edward was undoubtedly the victim. Edward had more important things to worry about, like not feeling a slight electric tingle travel up his arm every time their fingers brushed. At the very least, ignoring his feelings for Oswald provided his mind with occupation for the time being.

It wasn’t that this came as a surprise to him, to be honest he’d had questionably more-than-friends feelings for the Penguin since the man had saved his life at Barbara’s club. He’d chosen to ignore them, as consequence of both his unwillingness to hurt their friendship, and later his passionate fascination with Kringle’s doppelganger. After Oswald had killed Isabella he assured himself it was fate leading him away from Oswald, that the two were simply not meant to be. After all, Oswald had difficulty putting others before himself, unless it came to James Gordon because he did distinctly recall the man sacrificing himself so James could keep his job. Jealousy flared up within him and he swiftly snuffed it out, reminding himself that a: Oswald and Jim were completely at odds now, and b: it wasn’t his place to be jealous anyway.

He was stopped short and pulled from his thoughts when he felt a hand collide with his chest. It was Oswald, holding him back.

“Is this the exit?” he asked, turning to Edward.

He glanced up, noticing the vent came to a dead end that opened vertically. There was a grate at the top from which he felt a refreshing breeze, quite nice after having spent who knows how long trapped in stuffy vents with no air flow besides Oswald’s breath.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, climbing up quickly, hearing shuffling behind him as Oswald followed. He pushed at the grate, sighing with relief when it opened and he got hit in the face with a cool gust of wind. He stayed there for a moment before he felt Oswald shove him from behind and he toppled out onto the concrete roof, the other man emerging in a disgruntled huff.

Last time he had done this he had been caught immediately afterwards. Not wanting to suffer the same fate, he scrambled to his feet and quickly grabbed hold of Oswald’s hand, tugging him along in a crouch until they were safely behind the wall.

They stayed there for a moment, revelling in the cool night air before Oswald interrupted the silence.

“I kind of can’t believe you were right,” Oswald said, turning to face him.

Edward looked back and the minute their eyes locked Edward felt his breath catch. _Fuck_. He knew they were both thinking it. He could practically feel the tension in the air, so taut it could be played like a violin.

“I tend to be,” Edward replied hoarsely. He thought the reply was going to be more mordant than it was.

There was another beat of silence before Edward moved forward quickly, connecting their lips in a spur of the moment decision, because why the fuck not? They just escaped Arkham, he was high on endorphins, only, there were many reasons to absolutely the fuck not. Oswald froze, his mouth unmoving against Edward’s, the invisible string of tension being drawn impossibly tight between them.

Edward pulled back just as quickly as he went in, realization of what he just did dawning on his face, all the reasons to absolutely the fuck not rushing into his head. Oswald’s usually pallid face was flushed red, his pale eyes wide in shock. Neither of them spoke, neither of them even moved, simply staring at each other, Oswald looking stricken, Edward feeling as though he wished a guard would see him and shoot him down for attempting escape.

Oswald stood up abruptly, and with that the string snapped. Edward clambered to his feet quickly, stuttering out an “Oswald I’m sorry,” but when Oswald turned to face him he seemed confused.

"You're sorry?" he asked.

"Um."

"Sorry you kissed me? Or did I miss something?"

Edward paused.

"I mean... I'm not sorry? I mean, I didn't mean to- it was kind of... That was abrupt," he tripped over his words stupidly. If he could see himself in the third person at this moment he'd probably slap himself. 

"Did you mean it?"

Edward stared at him.

"The kiss," Oswald clarified with a sigh.

"I... Yes?"

"Yes?"

"Yes."

They stared at each other again, the moment drawing out for an almost concerning amount of time before Oswald punched him square in the jaw.

 ~ ; ~

Oswald might have lost his temper there. He'll admit it, sometimes he doesn't exactly think things through quite as much as he should. Sometimes his emotions get the better of him, and he hurts things, those things being Edward's face in this instance, but honestly it ranges. He could hardly be blamed, however, the man  _did_ make multiple attempts on his life as well as not only reject him, but rub that rejection in his face. So, yes, naturally, when said man kissed him, his response was to punch him.

" _Oswald_ ," Edward growled, lunging at him and grabbing the front of his Arkham uniform roughly--perhaps  _too_ roughly, as Oswald misstepped and the pair lost their balance, falling over in a heap. Oswald gasped, feeling the air rush out of his lungs at the impact, the additional weight of Edward crushing him an unpleasant cherry on the metaphorical sundae of pain.

Edward groaned, pushing himself up and adjusting his glasses which had somehow miraculously remained on his face. He glared at Oswald and Oswald glared back defiantly, despite being trapped beneath the taller man.

" _Why_ did you punch me?" Edward grit out.

"You  _kissed_ me! Did you forget that you tried to kill me on multiple occasions  _and_ essentially spat all over my feelings for you? Because I remember that very clearly."

"You killed Isabella! What was I supposed to do?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe  _not_ murder your best friend?" 

Edward frowned, then grabbed for Oswald's uniform again but Oswald quickly squirmed away, stumbling awkwardly to his feet before running in the opposite direction. For someone so frazzled, Edward got up swiftly, running after Oswald and reaching out to grab at his arm, but he turned quickly out of his grasp and retaliated by attempting to grab Edward by the throat. Unfortunately, his actions were thwarted when Edward clumsily grabbed Oswald's outstretched arm. They were really getting into their fight when an excruciatingly bright light was suddenly fixed on them. The two immediately stopped their belligerent squabble and looked at each other.

They booked it, Oswald running as fast as he could with his goddamn leg, until they reached a ladder, rushing down it. Oswald cringed when he heard the alarms go off, but Edward grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind a truck.

"Ladies first," he said, gesturing to the open back. Oswald made sure Edward saw his poisonous glare before climbing into the back, hearing Edward follow closely behind. They quickly hid themselves in between crates and waited in strained silence until the engine roared to life and Oswald almost cried in relief. The truck began to move, making it's way towards the heart of Gotham City, leaving Arkham behind.


End file.
